America(from our world) somehow switches place with the America from the alternate world (one where UK won the war, perhaps, and is still ruling America as a colony-this is up to the writer anon. Change it as you see fit! ). Whether or not they eventually switch back is up to you. One shots, glimpses of the situation on either side of the switch are also very much welcomed.
Bonus: Bondage. Use of sex toys. anon is going to hell Bonus 2: Suit!porn
Writernon apologizes if this has already been filled; I found it in the unfilled index at the usxuk comm. Writernon would also like to forewarn any potential readers that this will not be epic.
kansas is the 34th state (1/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 18:26:25 UTC
"Hey, Toto." Alfred smiles into the mirror and Toto, which is what he calls his reflection-as in, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, not the pop band that had some success in the 1980s-smiles at him out of it. At first, Alfred would address Toto with, "Good morning," or, "Good afternoon," depending on the time of day. But after they took away his watch, he lost track not only of what day he was on but where he was in any given day. So now he sticks with non-specific greetings like "hey," "hello," and, "howdy, handsome!"
He doesn't make the Wizard of Oz references anymore, either. He thought they were playing a prank on him, elaborate and subtle in all the changes from how he knew things to be, from how they themselves were. So he'd said one of the most famous lines from one of his most beloved movies. They'd all looked blankly at him and then Matthew had asked, hesitantly, "What's Kansas?" Naturally, Alfred had replied that Kansas was his 34th State, born January 29, 1861.
That's when Arthur hit him. An open-handed slap across the face, aimed at his mouth, hard enough to split his lip.
It had been more surprising than painful. Alfred had laughed a little as he'd touched his mouth, wiping away the trickle of blood with the back of his hand. "You haven't done something like that since I was a colony."
Arthur went stock-still at that. His face flushed a sudden and furious red, his hands clenched, unclenched, and clenched again, but he hadn't raised his hand to Alfred again. He took a deep breath and it was like everyone else was holding theirs; even Alfred caught himself on the verge of not exhaling, but he forced himself to grin and breathe normally.
"I don't know what you're playing at, my boy," Arthur had said then, eyes boring into Alfred so that it took a fair amount of Alfred's willpower not to step back. "But I'll have none of it." He'd turned on heel, striding from the room without a backwards glance, the others following; only Matthew had looked over his shoulder, hardly letting their eyes meet before he turned forwards again. The door shut; there was the unmistakable clang of a bolt being thrown in place on the other side.
And that's when Alfred began to understand that maybe he really wasn't in Kansas, or even the universe where his 34th State existed, anymore.
Re: kansas is the 34th state (1/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 19:00:23 UTC
;dsk;slkf why would you stop thereeeeee! Moreeee ;w;!
Man, that slap. I could actally hear it when I read this and I was like OHSHITWHATJUSTHAPPENED. o__o;
A-anyway, be sure to continue soon, eh? <3
and are you, by any chance, the anonauthor that's writing that Liet/America fill? With Liet working for America and that.. Well, not sure if you are, so I'm just gonna embarrass myself by asking haha. Anyway, love the fill so far. So you btter continue! ;D
Re: kansas is the 34th state (1/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 19:34:04 UTC
Writernon thanks you for reading and for the encouraging comments. ♥ Work is slow at the moment so I'm hoping to post more today. An aspiration rather than a promise. ;) The slap--yeah, Arthur just kind of went and did that on his own (my notes just had him staring Alfred down and walking out). Happy to hear that worked for you!
This is the only fill I'm writing at the moment and it's been a little while since I've been here, so the Liet/America anon is not me. No need to be embarrassed, though!
Re: kansas is the 34th state (1/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 19:35:19 UTC
Ah, writernon did not mean to be a tease! It seemed like a good place to stop for the introduction...? Anyhow, I'm working on the next part now and will do my best to keep you interested. Thank you for reading! ♥
kansas is the 34th state (2/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 21:06:13 UTC
Alfred believes in parallel universes, of course. There is some intriguing scientific theory supporting their existence, beyond the science fiction speculation. He has to admit that his particular situation does seem to be more of the science fiction kind (though who can really say how denser gravity might affect what you have for breakfast or whether you successfully pull off a rebellion and become your own independent country). Either way and in spite of everything else, Alfred can't help being thrilled to personally witness and verify the existence of parallel universes.
It's either that, or Alfred is going crazy. And Alfred is not crazy. He has no way to prove it, but he trusts himself on this one. Where he's from, Kansas is the 34th State and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" won an Oscar for Best Song in 1940. These things Alfred holds dear and true. He recites such things regularly lest they be forgotten; lest he forget himself. Sometimes he goes through the States and their capital cities, other times he does various categories of Oscar winners by year, still other times he reviews the major battles of WWII and their outcomes.
Today, he decides to do #1 singles of the year for the 1990s, according to the Billboard charts. After a rousing version of "Believe" (4 weeks at the top in 1999) in his best Cher imitation, Alfred falls back on the bed and contemplates a crack in the ceiling that, to his disappointment, continues refusing to spread farther.
He doesn't know how he got here, which of course means he doesn't know how to get back. And given that he hasn't been allowed contact with anyone but Arthur since his "retraining" began, Alfred can't count on any help here. It's possible that the Alfred from here is working on a solution over in the universe Alfred himself came from-assuming, of course, that there had been a one-to-one switch, and that someone over in his universe knew anything about what was going on. He wonders how Here-Alfred is doing over there, and what he is doing, thrust into independence and onto the world stage. Well, it'll be interesting when Alfred gets back to his own universe, if he does.
In the meantime, he's making the best of things here. He has another training session with Arthur soon, which at least breaks up the monotony and solitude. Just as it's designed to.
For a while, Matthew had been allowed to visit him. Alfred had enjoyed that, even when Matthew had repeatedly urged him to stop insisting he was a nation. Those were the early days when Alfred still thought he could convince someone here of what had happened and who he really is. He'd kept trying even though all Matthew said in return was, "You're only making things worse for yourself"-which were Arthur's words in Matthew's mouth-and, "Please, Alfred, stop"-which Alfred thought might be Matthew's own addition. At least the "please."
The last time Alfred saw Matthew, Matthew had passed on an explicit message from Arthur: "He says he's going to start all over with you, from the beginning. Your retraining is to start tomorrow." That was all he would say about it. Alfred figured it probably wasn't military training and certainly hoped it wasn't something like toilet training, though that "from the beginning" had him a little worried.
When it turned out to be sex training, and more specifically training as Arthur's personal sex slave, Alfred hadn't know whether to laugh or to-well, no, he'd just gone and laughed.
That had not gone over well.
It took him a while to figure out that Arthur hasn't created a harem of colonies: it's just Alfred. Alfred made an example of for his failed rebellion, kept around as much to remind the others what fate awaits if they entertain similar aspirations of freedom as for Arthur's pleasure.
Though Arthur's pleasure is no small part of it.
Alfred had been chagrined when he began to respond to Arthur's pleasure as if it were his own. That's part of why it's so important to do things like reciting the Presidents in chronological order, from George Washington to Barack Obama. There's a place inside Alfred that will always be the United States of America, no matter how Arthur-This-Arthur-comes to occupy him.
kansas is the 34th state (3/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 22:30:29 UTC
Even though he's expecting it, has been waiting for it, the knock on the door startles Alfred and he realizes he's been asleep. He doesn't remember falling, but he must have. He rolls himself off the bed, finger-combing his hair back from his face and rubbing at some sleep in the corner of his eye with the pad of his thumb. By the time the bolt slides on the other side and the door opens, Alfred is standing in front of it, smiling.
A lit cigarette dangles from one corner of his unsmiling mouth, smoke drifting upwards in a careless curl. His hair is tousled, tie draped undone around his neck, his dress shirt fully unbuttoned and pushed back on one side by the hand casually thrust into his pocket, his other hand somewhere behind him. The waistband of his trousers rides low, the jut of his hipbone exposed. He has come from a tryst. Or so he would like to Alfred to think.
Their eyes meet when Alfred drags his gaze up from Arthur's bared torso. Arthur looks at Alfred. He keeps looking.
He just looks, until the smile starts to fade from Alfred's face and a newly familiar heat rises to take its place.
Alfred holds Arthur's hot gaze. He twitches and flickers; he holds himself in Arthur's eyes.
Arthur blinks, so slow and soft it's like a cliché, a fluttering of butterfly wings. A cliché but Alfred still feels it, a flutter on the other side of the world, the other side of this gaze, and it creates a storm in Alfred's blood.
With the next flutter, Arthur opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue, that glossy soft pink tip, licks the underside of his upper lip; and Alfred's bones flutter, they want to bend, oh, something in him wants to bend himself onto his knees before Arthur.
He lets that something overwhelm him, yielding if not entirely surrendering, and starts to bed. Arthur smiles. It's the smallest movement of his mouth, something that's maybe not quite a smile, but Alfred takes it for the yes he has learned to recognize and bends himself; he lets Arthur's eyes bend him. He knees before Arthur, the gaze enveloping him.
Alfred gives over to it as much as he dares.
And then, unwillingly; willingly, a little more:
He falls into Arthur's gaze.
Sometime later-a second, an hour, a lifetime (and this, Alfred says deep inside himself, in the sanctuary of the United States of Himself, is why he can't tell time anymore)-someone passes by behind Arthur, framed in the still-open doorway. Alfred hears the footsteps and knows they exist. But he knows, too, that they are unimportant, and he looks only at Arthur, who is looking only at him.
Then Arthur lifts his hand to draw the cigarette from between this lips, flicks the ashes just so, and Alfred rises wordlessly. He moves back as Arthur comes inside, and by the time the door is clicked shut and locked behind Arthur, Alfred has stripped himself bare.
Holding and held in the glorious gaze, only Alfred's eyes move as Arthur comes to him. When Arthur brings his hidden hand into Alfred's sight, Alfred sees the bag for the first time. Then the bag falls away, and Alfred sees laces and eyelets and the soft black leather of a corset, and he swallows hard, and the swallow twitches his cock harder.
"Bad boy." Arthur laughs, grinds the dropped cigarette beneath his boot heel, and slaps Alfred's cock. "I didn't say you could move yet."
Alfred's cock shudders with the slap; the slap shudders and vibrates all along the underside of Alfred's skin, all over his body, and Alfred bites his lip to keep the hot shivering inside him.
Arthur looks at him, and Alfred knows Arthur sees inside him: sees all the vibrations Alfred can't keep still. Arthur looks at him and Alfred knows what he is. But he waits for Arthur to tell him.
Arthur leans in. His mouth hovers at Alfred's ear. He hovers his breath, soft and warm, and makes Alfred wait for his words, hotter and harder than breath.
kansas is the 34th state (4/5)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 22:57:36 UTC
When Arthur's words come, they are soundless. They feel like the blunt edge of bared teeth, digging flat and hard into the yielding flesh of Alfred's earlobe.
It is only because Alfred moves when Arthur's teeth are telling him not to that his flesh tears softly, just a little.
"Bad." Arthur's tongue licks the words, soft and wet, onto Alfred's skin. "My bad boy." His tongue, licking Alfred's blood, dares Alfred to deny to possessive.
When at last Arthur steps back, Alfred trembles in the cold wake of his tongue's heat. Arthur's eyes roam over Alfred's body, inflaming his blood again and now subduing his trembles.
Finally, his eyes come to Alfred's once more. They hold, and hold, and.
"Up."
At that, Alfred lifts his hands overhead into a stretch, stretching himself until the trembles, lulled by Arthur's gaze, reawaken at the brink of strain.
Arthur comes to him again and again leans in. He breathes against Alfred, rests his lips at the hollow of Alfred's throat, presses his tongue to Alfred's throbbing pulse.
"Take in your breath," Arthur says, moving back only enough to capture Alfred's gaze again. "Don't give it to me until I tell you."
Alfred sucks on the air between them, sucks it in, feels it fill his lungs. Arthur's finger crooks under his chin, nudging, and Alfred bends his head back to offer Arthur his throat.
Still holding his breath, he feels a soft rush of air around him, and then those flutterings are crushed against his skin by soft, solid leather. Arthur takes his time sliding the undone corset around Alfred. Oh, he takes his time, pressing the air flat, squeezing it out so there is nothing left but flush and skin and leather.
Arthur tugs and pulls as he coaxes the stays through the eyelets, lacing up the corset, binding Alfred into the leather. Arthur tugs and pulls and Alfred wants to bend, to be bent, yielded; he wants to fall, if but for a moment.
He holds his breath and waits, and he doesn't fall but he tips with all the tugging and pulling. He finds himself tipped up onto the balls of his feet a little. It's so very small a movement and he tips himself back down quickly, but Arthur has caught it.
Arthur catches him: reaches back and catches Alfred across the crease of thigh and ass, strikes as quickly as Alfred's tipping, harder. Alfred closes his eyes, keeps his head tilted back, his lungs filled; he closes his eyes and feels it-the something that is not a smile, something that is maybe not pleased but is pleasure-he feels it in Arthur's hand.
kansas is the 34th state (5/5)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 23:59:27 UTC
Another tug, another pull, and Arthur steps back to survey his work. Even with his eyes closed, Alfred knows Arthur is looking at him. He's burning inside but he doesn't look back, he doesn't breathe.
With a touch, Arthur tips Alfred's face down to him. They settle mouth to mouth, Arthur breathing, Alfred not.
"Give." The word is soft but unmistakable, undeniable. Arthur's tongue nudges between Alfred's lips and Alfred lets himself be opened, at long last lets the air out of his lung and up through his throat, Arthur's hand wrapped around it a shade more loosely than the corset around Alfred's torso; Alfred's breath spills over his lips, onto Arthur's, dissipates.
"Good boy," Arthur murmurs. He takes Alfred's lower lip between his teeth as he releases his throat to tighten the corset more. A soft grunt escapes Alfred.
Arthur takes a half-step back and looks at him. Alfred holds as still as he can, swallowing the other inarticulate sounds swelling in his throat. Arthur's hand comes up and Alfred waits for the remonstrative slap. But Arthur only brushes his thumb over Alfred's lips. Alfred opens for him. "Yes." Arthur's eyes slit as he flutters his lashes and smiles at Alfred and looks at him like that. The weight of Arthur's half-fluttered lashes could bend him to breaking, Alfred thinks.
"On the bed," Arthur says. Alfred goes over and starts to climb onto it, but Arthur says, "No, just sit there." So Alfred drapes himself open at the edge, braced on his arms stretched behind him, back held in a slight arch, his cock arching more.
The hot shivers start up again and this time Arthur does not soothe them with his gaze. "Back," he says, and Alfred shifts to recline against the headboard. Arthur reaches between his spread legs and runs a fingertip along the underside of Alfred's trembling cock.
"Almost perfect." He neither blinks nor flutters. Held in that glorious gaze, Alfred holds still; he holds his breath, even though Arthur has not asked him to, at least not in words.
"Soft," Arthur says now. "I like it soft and tight." He pinches the tip of Alfred's cockhead, sending a sharp thrill down to Alfred's balls, and then steps back. "I'll return in twenty minutes. I want you to think about that. Think of me, and what I like, and how you want me to find you."
Alfred doesn't breathe again until the door clicks shut behind Arthur.
He breathes, and thinks about Arthur.
He's a good boy sometimes, honestly. He's a good boy now and he thinks about what Arthur likes.
He thinks about Arthur, what Arthur said he likes, and what Arthur really likes.
Alfred thinks he'll be a bad boy.
Arms bound overhead and affixed to the ceiling hook, legs held apart by the spreader bar, cock still as diamond-hard as he'd let it get, Alfred thinks he probably could come just from the flogging Arthur is administering to him. He thinks that would please Arthur: to watch Alfred succumb and surrender himself to Arthur's punishment, to Arthur's every whim, to be soft and open when Arthur takes him again and at last.
Yes, Alfred knows he could come right now, if he wanted to.
Alabama, 22nd, Montgomery, he tells himself, deciding to go in alphabetical order by state name this time. Alaska, 49th, Juneau. Arizona, 48th, Phoenix. Arkansas, 25th, Little Rock. The rhythm of his internal recitation falls in with the strokes of Arthur's flogger across his ass.
The deep breath Alfred takes may be shaky, but he smiles inside. California, 31st, Sacramento...
Re: kansas is the 34th state (5/5)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 02:08:27 UTC
omg. sequel SEQUEL SEQUEL please don't leave it hanging there anon. I really wish I knew what happens to poor our-world Alfred? Or other-world Alfred...? I love that our Alfred isn't giving up without a major fight.
Re: kansas is the 34th state (5/5)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:03:06 UTC
Writernon promises nothing...but I did spend the commute home thinking about other-world Alfred in our world...
Our-world Alfred is made of strong stuff. When I first read the prompt, I squirmed with joy at the thought of Alfred as a sex slave--but once I started, knowing that it was *our* Alfred, somehow things took a different turn. Hence the cockblocking!writernon lack of full on sexy tiems. I'm really happy you liked what I did. Thank you so much for reading! ♥
Re: kansas is the 34th state (5/5)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:04:24 UTC
Ohhh god this was hot. The main dig for me is how Alfred is simultaneously defiant of his new situation and getting a genuine thrill out of it. Or that his subversive compliance is in itself a form of resistance; by finding pleasure in the punishment, he's armored himself against being broken by punishment. Arthur must think he's breaking Alfred's will by forcing him, but you get the feeling that Alfred is in some ways a step ahead in this game, that he knows Arthur's desires perhaps better than Arthur does... mmm... it's all so delicious and perverse and gaaaahhh.
Now I really have to wonder what the hell normal!Arthur thinks of the alternate!Alfred who's presumably popped up on the other side, ready to serve. And what the nature of normal!Alfred and normal!Arthur's relationship was. Is normal!Alfred attracted to normal!Arthur as he seems attracted to alternate!Arthur, or is normal!Arthur not sadistic enough, hahaha...
Re: kansas is the 34th state (5/5)
anonymous
January 6 2011, 04:53:46 UTC
Oh man, I've been sitting here practically gnawing my hand off because there are so many things I want to say in response...but they'd all be spoilers if I actually do write the follow-up story, about other-world Alfred in our world. Let me just say, our brings work in similar ways. (And I will happily tell you more, if you want to hear what I'm thinking! If not, no worries.)
As for this story itself: that was the thing for me, too--the way Alfred resists and yields at the same time. I'm not at all opposed to purely submissive!Alfred and have joyfully written him elsewhere, but the Alfred here is not quite like that. I'm really, really pleased you found it hot because I was afraid I might be disappointing but not letting them have outrageous sex together.
Thanks very much for reading (and sorry for the rambling)!
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17337.html?thread=53380537#t53380537
Inspired by Part 7 'AU where England is under America's rule, and his sex slave.' request + THIS image as seme!England ->http://pm400.sakuraweb.com/aphe/100727-1.jpg
America(from our world) somehow switches place with the America from the alternate world (one where UK won the war, perhaps, and is still ruling America as a colony-this is up to the writer anon. Change it as you see fit! ). Whether or not they eventually switch back is up to you. One shots, glimpses of the situation on either side of the switch are also very much welcomed.
Bonus: Bondage. Use of sex toys. anon is going to hell
Bonus 2: Suit!porn
Writernon apologizes if this has already been filled; I found it in the unfilled index at the usxuk comm. Writernon would also like to forewarn any potential readers that this will not be epic.
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He doesn't make the Wizard of Oz references anymore, either. He thought they were playing a prank on him, elaborate and subtle in all the changes from how he knew things to be, from how they themselves were. So he'd said one of the most famous lines from one of his most beloved movies. They'd all looked blankly at him and then Matthew had asked, hesitantly, "What's Kansas?" Naturally, Alfred had replied that Kansas was his 34th State, born January 29, 1861.
That's when Arthur hit him. An open-handed slap across the face, aimed at his mouth, hard enough to split his lip.
It had been more surprising than painful. Alfred had laughed a little as he'd touched his mouth, wiping away the trickle of blood with the back of his hand. "You haven't done something like that since I was a colony."
Arthur went stock-still at that. His face flushed a sudden and furious red, his hands clenched, unclenched, and clenched again, but he hadn't raised his hand to Alfred again. He took a deep breath and it was like everyone else was holding theirs; even Alfred caught himself on the verge of not exhaling, but he forced himself to grin and breathe normally.
"I don't know what you're playing at, my boy," Arthur had said then, eyes boring into Alfred so that it took a fair amount of Alfred's willpower not to step back. "But I'll have none of it." He'd turned on heel, striding from the room without a backwards glance, the others following; only Matthew had looked over his shoulder, hardly letting their eyes meet before he turned forwards again. The door shut; there was the unmistakable clang of a bolt being thrown in place on the other side.
And that's when Alfred began to understand that maybe he really wasn't in Kansas, or even the universe where his 34th State existed, anymore.
tbc...
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Man, that slap. I could actally hear it when I read this and I was like OHSHITWHATJUSTHAPPENED. o__o;
A-anyway, be sure to continue soon, eh? <3
and are you, by any chance, the anonauthor that's writing that Liet/America fill? With Liet working for America and that.. Well, not sure if you are, so I'm just gonna embarrass myself by asking haha. Anyway, love the fill so far. So you btter continue! ;D
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This is the only fill I'm writing at the moment and it's been a little while since I've been here, so the Liet/America anon is not me. No need to be embarrassed, though!
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It's either that, or Alfred is going crazy. And Alfred is not crazy. He has no way to prove it, but he trusts himself on this one. Where he's from, Kansas is the 34th State and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" won an Oscar for Best Song in 1940. These things Alfred holds dear and true. He recites such things regularly lest they be forgotten; lest he forget himself. Sometimes he goes through the States and their capital cities, other times he does various categories of Oscar winners by year, still other times he reviews the major battles of WWII and their outcomes.
Today, he decides to do #1 singles of the year for the 1990s, according to the Billboard charts. After a rousing version of "Believe" (4 weeks at the top in 1999) in his best Cher imitation, Alfred falls back on the bed and contemplates a crack in the ceiling that, to his disappointment, continues refusing to spread farther.
He doesn't know how he got here, which of course means he doesn't know how to get back. And given that he hasn't been allowed contact with anyone but Arthur since his "retraining" began, Alfred can't count on any help here. It's possible that the Alfred from here is working on a solution over in the universe Alfred himself came from-assuming, of course, that there had been a one-to-one switch, and that someone over in his universe knew anything about what was going on. He wonders how Here-Alfred is doing over there, and what he is doing, thrust into independence and onto the world stage. Well, it'll be interesting when Alfred gets back to his own universe, if he does.
In the meantime, he's making the best of things here. He has another training session with Arthur soon, which at least breaks up the monotony and solitude. Just as it's designed to.
For a while, Matthew had been allowed to visit him. Alfred had enjoyed that, even when Matthew had repeatedly urged him to stop insisting he was a nation. Those were the early days when Alfred still thought he could convince someone here of what had happened and who he really is. He'd kept trying even though all Matthew said in return was, "You're only making things worse for yourself"-which were Arthur's words in Matthew's mouth-and, "Please, Alfred, stop"-which Alfred thought might be Matthew's own addition. At least the "please."
The last time Alfred saw Matthew, Matthew had passed on an explicit message from Arthur: "He says he's going to start all over with you, from the beginning. Your retraining is to start tomorrow." That was all he would say about it. Alfred figured it probably wasn't military training and certainly hoped it wasn't something like toilet training, though that "from the beginning" had him a little worried.
When it turned out to be sex training, and more specifically training as Arthur's personal sex slave, Alfred hadn't know whether to laugh or to-well, no, he'd just gone and laughed.
That had not gone over well.
It took him a while to figure out that Arthur hasn't created a harem of colonies: it's just Alfred. Alfred made an example of for his failed rebellion, kept around as much to remind the others what fate awaits if they entertain similar aspirations of freedom as for Arthur's pleasure.
Though Arthur's pleasure is no small part of it.
Alfred had been chagrined when he began to respond to Arthur's pleasure as if it were his own. That's part of why it's so important to do things like reciting the Presidents in chronological order, from George Washington to Barack Obama. There's a place inside Alfred that will always be the United States of America, no matter how Arthur-This-Arthur-comes to occupy him.
tbc...
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Arthur doesn't smile in return.
http://pm400.sakuraweb.com/aphe/100727-1.jpg
A lit cigarette dangles from one corner of his unsmiling mouth, smoke drifting upwards in a careless curl. His hair is tousled, tie draped undone around his neck, his dress shirt fully unbuttoned and pushed back on one side by the hand casually thrust into his pocket, his other hand somewhere behind him. The waistband of his trousers rides low, the jut of his hipbone exposed. He has come from a tryst. Or so he would like to Alfred to think.
Their eyes meet when Alfred drags his gaze up from Arthur's bared torso. Arthur looks at Alfred. He keeps looking.
He just looks, until the smile starts to fade from Alfred's face and a newly familiar heat rises to take its place.
Alfred holds Arthur's hot gaze. He twitches and flickers; he holds himself in Arthur's eyes.
Arthur blinks, so slow and soft it's like a cliché, a fluttering of butterfly wings. A cliché but Alfred still feels it, a flutter on the other side of the world, the other side of this gaze, and it creates a storm in Alfred's blood.
With the next flutter, Arthur opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue, that glossy soft pink tip, licks the underside of his upper lip; and Alfred's bones flutter, they want to bend, oh, something in him wants to bend himself onto his knees before Arthur.
He lets that something overwhelm him, yielding if not entirely surrendering, and starts to bed. Arthur smiles. It's the smallest movement of his mouth, something that's maybe not quite a smile, but Alfred takes it for the yes he has learned to recognize and bends himself; he lets Arthur's eyes bend him. He knees before Arthur, the gaze enveloping him.
Alfred gives over to it as much as he dares.
And then, unwillingly; willingly, a little more:
He falls into Arthur's gaze.
Sometime later-a second, an hour, a lifetime (and this, Alfred says deep inside himself, in the sanctuary of the United States of Himself, is why he can't tell time anymore)-someone passes by behind Arthur, framed in the still-open doorway. Alfred hears the footsteps and knows they exist. But he knows, too, that they are unimportant, and he looks only at Arthur, who is looking only at him.
Then Arthur lifts his hand to draw the cigarette from between this lips, flicks the ashes just so, and Alfred rises wordlessly. He moves back as Arthur comes inside, and by the time the door is clicked shut and locked behind Arthur, Alfred has stripped himself bare.
Holding and held in the glorious gaze, only Alfred's eyes move as Arthur comes to him. When Arthur brings his hidden hand into Alfred's sight, Alfred sees the bag for the first time. Then the bag falls away, and Alfred sees laces and eyelets and the soft black leather of a corset, and he swallows hard, and the swallow twitches his cock harder.
"Bad boy." Arthur laughs, grinds the dropped cigarette beneath his boot heel, and slaps Alfred's cock. "I didn't say you could move yet."
Alfred's cock shudders with the slap; the slap shudders and vibrates all along the underside of Alfred's skin, all over his body, and Alfred bites his lip to keep the hot shivering inside him.
Arthur looks at him, and Alfred knows Arthur sees inside him: sees all the vibrations Alfred can't keep still. Arthur looks at him and Alfred knows what he is. But he waits for Arthur to tell him.
Arthur leans in. His mouth hovers at Alfred's ear. He hovers his breath, soft and warm, and makes Alfred wait for his words, hotter and harder than breath.
And Alfred waits; he waits.
tbc...
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It is only because Alfred moves when Arthur's teeth are telling him not to that his flesh tears softly, just a little.
"Bad." Arthur's tongue licks the words, soft and wet, onto Alfred's skin. "My bad boy." His tongue, licking Alfred's blood, dares Alfred to deny to possessive.
When at last Arthur steps back, Alfred trembles in the cold wake of his tongue's heat. Arthur's eyes roam over Alfred's body, inflaming his blood again and now subduing his trembles.
Finally, his eyes come to Alfred's once more. They hold, and hold, and.
"Up."
At that, Alfred lifts his hands overhead into a stretch, stretching himself until the trembles, lulled by Arthur's gaze, reawaken at the brink of strain.
Arthur comes to him again and again leans in. He breathes against Alfred, rests his lips at the hollow of Alfred's throat, presses his tongue to Alfred's throbbing pulse.
"Take in your breath," Arthur says, moving back only enough to capture Alfred's gaze again. "Don't give it to me until I tell you."
Alfred sucks on the air between them, sucks it in, feels it fill his lungs. Arthur's finger crooks under his chin, nudging, and Alfred bends his head back to offer Arthur his throat.
Still holding his breath, he feels a soft rush of air around him, and then those flutterings are crushed against his skin by soft, solid leather. Arthur takes his time sliding the undone corset around Alfred. Oh, he takes his time, pressing the air flat, squeezing it out so there is nothing left but flush and skin and leather.
Arthur tugs and pulls as he coaxes the stays through the eyelets, lacing up the corset, binding Alfred into the leather. Arthur tugs and pulls and Alfred wants to bend, to be bent, yielded; he wants to fall, if but for a moment.
He holds his breath and waits, and he doesn't fall but he tips with all the tugging and pulling. He finds himself tipped up onto the balls of his feet a little. It's so very small a movement and he tips himself back down quickly, but Arthur has caught it.
Arthur catches him: reaches back and catches Alfred across the crease of thigh and ass, strikes as quickly as Alfred's tipping, harder. Alfred closes his eyes, keeps his head tilted back, his lungs filled; he closes his eyes and feels it-the something that is not a smile, something that is maybe not pleased but is pleasure-he feels it in Arthur's hand.
tbc...
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With a touch, Arthur tips Alfred's face down to him. They settle mouth to mouth, Arthur breathing, Alfred not.
"Give." The word is soft but unmistakable, undeniable. Arthur's tongue nudges between Alfred's lips and Alfred lets himself be opened, at long last lets the air out of his lung and up through his throat, Arthur's hand wrapped around it a shade more loosely than the corset around Alfred's torso; Alfred's breath spills over his lips, onto Arthur's, dissipates.
"Good boy," Arthur murmurs. He takes Alfred's lower lip between his teeth as he releases his throat to tighten the corset more. A soft grunt escapes Alfred.
Arthur takes a half-step back and looks at him. Alfred holds as still as he can, swallowing the other inarticulate sounds swelling in his throat. Arthur's hand comes up and Alfred waits for the remonstrative slap. But Arthur only brushes his thumb over Alfred's lips. Alfred opens for him. "Yes." Arthur's eyes slit as he flutters his lashes and smiles at Alfred and looks at him like that. The weight of Arthur's half-fluttered lashes could bend him to breaking, Alfred thinks.
"On the bed," Arthur says. Alfred goes over and starts to climb onto it, but Arthur says, "No, just sit there." So Alfred drapes himself open at the edge, braced on his arms stretched behind him, back held in a slight arch, his cock arching more.
The hot shivers start up again and this time Arthur does not soothe them with his gaze. "Back," he says, and Alfred shifts to recline against the headboard. Arthur reaches between his spread legs and runs a fingertip along the underside of Alfred's trembling cock.
"Almost perfect." He neither blinks nor flutters. Held in that glorious gaze, Alfred holds still; he holds his breath, even though Arthur has not asked him to, at least not in words.
"Soft," Arthur says now. "I like it soft and tight." He pinches the tip of Alfred's cockhead, sending a sharp thrill down to Alfred's balls, and then steps back. "I'll return in twenty minutes. I want you to think about that. Think of me, and what I like, and how you want me to find you."
Alfred doesn't breathe again until the door clicks shut behind Arthur.
He breathes, and thinks about Arthur.
He's a good boy sometimes, honestly. He's a good boy now and he thinks about what Arthur likes.
He thinks about Arthur, what Arthur said he likes, and what Arthur really likes.
Alfred thinks he'll be a bad boy.
Arms bound overhead and affixed to the ceiling hook, legs held apart by the spreader bar, cock still as diamond-hard as he'd let it get, Alfred thinks he probably could come just from the flogging Arthur is administering to him. He thinks that would please Arthur: to watch Alfred succumb and surrender himself to Arthur's punishment, to Arthur's every whim, to be soft and open when Arthur takes him again and at last.
Yes, Alfred knows he could come right now, if he wanted to.
Alabama, 22nd, Montgomery, he tells himself, deciding to go in alphabetical order by state name this time. Alaska, 49th, Juneau. Arizona, 48th, Phoenix. Arkansas, 25th, Little Rock. The rhythm of his internal recitation falls in with the strokes of Arthur's flogger across his ass.
The deep breath Alfred takes may be shaky, but he smiles inside. California, 31st, Sacramento...
- end -
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please don't leave it hanging there anon.
I really wish I knew what happens to poor our-world Alfred? Or other-world Alfred...? I love that our Alfred isn't giving up without a major fight.
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Our-world Alfred is made of strong stuff. When I first read the prompt, I squirmed with joy at the thought of Alfred as a sex slave--but once I started, knowing that it was *our* Alfred, somehow things took a different turn. Hence the cockblocking!writernon lack of full on sexy tiems. I'm really happy you liked what I did. Thank you so much for reading! ♥
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Now I really have to wonder what the hell normal!Arthur thinks of the alternate!Alfred who's presumably popped up on the other side, ready to serve. And what the nature of normal!Alfred and normal!Arthur's relationship was. Is normal!Alfred attracted to normal!Arthur as he seems attracted to alternate!Arthur, or is normal!Arthur not sadistic enough, hahaha...
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As for this story itself: that was the thing for me, too--the way Alfred resists and yields at the same time. I'm not at all opposed to purely submissive!Alfred and have joyfully written him elsewhere, but the Alfred here is not quite like that. I'm really, really pleased you found it hot because I was afraid I might be disappointing but not letting them have outrageous sex together.
Thanks very much for reading (and sorry for the rambling)!
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-- Make that, our brains work in similar ways. Except, apparently, that mine sends more misfires to my fingers than yours does.
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I'd love to hear more! &hearts I do hope you end up writing a sequel - I'm completely intrigued by your writing style and characterization.
...any chance you'd link to other of your fics? (It's ok if you don't want to link, no pressure.)
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